Dark Souls Fly
by Moonchild1212
Summary: SS/OC One fateful night, Severus saves a pure blood young woman, the sister of a Death Eater, from ruin and earns more than her gratitude. He gives her his protection, but can she give him something to live for? AU, Earns rating.
1. Chapter 1

Again the HP universe and characters belong to JKR. I own none of it and make no profit from these efforts.

Damn plot bunny. I had intended on writing another chapter for Purgatorio, but this story wouldn't get out of my darn head. I blame my daughter's curly, golden hair, which fascinates me. I've been thinking about the other side of this war and the innocent victims. That led me to Emma. So, this is obviously very A/U and explores what might have been.

Also inspired by Rooks a poem by Scottish poet Charles Hamilton Sorely.

Dark Soul Flies

Emma woke with a start. She patted the bed next to her frantically, but Poppet wasn't there. She had warned her little sister to stay abed. The house was filled with them, her brothers . . . friends, and to walk around at this time of night was to court danger. But Poppet was barely five years old. She was such a tiny, curious little thing, with her large dark eyes and lovely, inky hair.

Since she had returned from school at Beauxbatons three years ago, it had been her duty to take care of Poppet. Her father, who doted on them both, had lost his second wife recently. The woman had been sickly to begin with, but she had wanted, craved a child. Father had indulged her and had spared no expense on her health. Eleanor had died a year after Emma returned. It had been sad, but Emma had sat by the young woman's bed and taken care of both her and the babe. They had been such good friends, she and her step-mother, who was only a handful of years older than herself.

Upon his new marriage, which had taken Emma out of school for a week, her father had remarked on what a lovely picture they made, his daughter and his new bride. He had a portrait commissioned. The two plump rosy cheeked women had sat close in complementary jewel tones, Emma in magenta and Eleanor in a deep blue, Emma's curly, golden locks had shined, and Eleanor's raven ringlets had gleamed with deep blue highlights.

Poppet favored her mother greatly, and so both Emma and her father indulged the child far more than they should. Emma tied her voluminous, white robe around her waist and opened her bedroom door gingerly. She bit down nervously on her full lower lip and gazed down the corridor. Father had warded their doors so that no one could enter, but why hadn't he thought about preventing them from leaving?

The men were supposed to keep out of the family wing, and they typically did. But this was different from the usual meetings. Algernon had warned them all. The west wing was warded for noise and stocked with all of the food and drink they might need. Her father was loath to let them hold such an event at his home, but her brother had urged him to open their home to the Dark Lord. It was a show of support for the cause, and . . . it would keep them safe, he said.

Since Augustus had been imprisoned in the first war, their status had been tenuous. Algernon was a lower ranked Death Eater, and he was attempting to protect the family. Her father had never taken the mark, and was terrified, given his position at the Ministry as an Unspeakable. It was likely that they would begin putting pressure on him, the Death Eaters, to spy as Augustus had. But he was being watched by the Ministry as well. They were suspicious, and given the recent validity of the Dark Lord's return, many eyes had turned to him curiously. He had remarked more than once that certain files were now restricted to him.

Emma padded down the thickly carpeted hallway, checking for Poppet's signature, but the little girl was clearly not in the family wing. Emma's hand went to her lips to stifle her gasp at the raucous laughter she heard. Peeking over the balcony, she observed several men as they cornered a girl, who looked to be younger than herself. They cast a silencing charm on her, and one man held the girl down on the settee while another began touching her. Emma drew back and fought the urge to scream. Father had allowed this to be brought into their home. A sick feeling of disgust and betrayal rose up in her throat. She choked down the rising gorge and knew that she must find Poppet at once.

She cast a disillusionment charm on herself and headed down a secret stairway, which was really not so secret. But, she knew Poppet often used it to spy on her brother when he was home. She adored the boy who was growing in to a very troubled young man.

The stairs creaked under her weight as she swiftly traversed the passage. The door was open. She could see the golden swath of light gleaming at the mouth of the entrance. And there, lying on the floor was Poppet's teddy bear. Emma couldn't stop the sorrowful sound that escaped her mouth. She shoved both of her hands over her lips, but it was too late. Someone had heard her. She saw a shadow appear in the doorway, and a hand reached out and pulled her down before she could scurry away.

"Well, look what we have here," Shouted Anton Dolohov. "Looks like I finally got my hands on you." He crowed.

Emma's hands were jerked away from her mouth as Dolohov gripped her wrists and swiftly divested her of her wand. She looked up at him with her large blue eyes pleadingly. "Don't hurt me Mr. Dolohov. I'm looking for Poppet; please help me find her." She begged.

Dolohov blinked blearily at her and grinned rakishly. "Give us a kiss, and I'll think about it." He leaned down and she smelled the stench of liquor on his breath.

He pressed against her and his hands roamed up to her ample bosom and squeezed.

Emma screamed loudly, and Dolohov drew back and struck her swiftly across the face. Emma was thrown to the floor by the force of the blow, and she began crying as she held her hand over her face.

"STOP IT!" Emma heard her brother yell.

"Fuck off, Rookwood," Dolohov muttered and began to reach for Emma.

A dark imposing shadow fell between them, and Emma heard a deep, threatening voice hiss, "You have got plenty of . . . appropriate playthings." She looked up to see the dark robed man point with his pale finger at the room behind them.

"If you lay another hand on this young woman, I will flay you alive myself. Do you have any idea what the Dark Lord will do when he finds out, Dolohov?" The tall man leaned forward and shoved Dolohov roughly. The drunken man stumbled back and Mcnair caught him swiftly.

"Fuck you, Snape." Dolohov spat.

Rookwood the younger looked at him worriedly. He knew better than to gainsay Snape. The man was as good as the Dark Lords lieutenant. He had killed Dumbledore and he would be Headmaster next term. To speak out against him would likely cost him his head, but he could not let anything happen to Emmy. He looked at Snape imploringly.

"She'll be safer with me than with you fool. Go." He hissed at the young man, who, like so man, was stuck in an unwinnable situation.

Severus waited until they had left before turning around to help the young woman up. He had seen her before at various functions he had been required to attend. This was Rookwood's eldest daughter. She had once been pledged to Draco Malfoy, though she was a little older than Lucius' heir. However, when she had reached her majority, Narcissa had asked to see the girl in order to determine her suitability.

She had found the girl lacking. According to Lucius, Narcissa was being catty. The girl was perfectly lovely, intelligent, and quite meek. Lucius assumed that his wife did not want the pretty blond traipsing around under his nose. The aristocratic blond had scoffed, as if he would taint his son's future bride. Severus had remained silent as this information was divulged. He would not put it past Lucius to dip into this sweet honey pot. The girl was quite appealing. Though, Narcissa claimed that she was far too plump to be fashionably pretty. The girls' mother had been related to the Parkinson's, and that was evident when one looked at her nose. But, rather than looking like a woeful pug, as Pansy did, this girl's button nose and wide blue eyes made her look like a doll, a plump little china doll.

She did not draw back from him as he had expected. He had only spoken to her once at a Christmas party, exchanging random pleasantries. She had been about 15, and her face had been broken out in spots. Narcissa had made him dance with her, and he had made sure to send the girl a potion for her acne once she returned to Beauxbatons.

Emma stood and touched her cheek gingerly and looked up at Snape hopefully.

"Why in Merlin's name are you down here girl?" He hissed as he drew close and latched his hand around her forearm firmly.

He began to drag her towards the staircase and back to the family wing.

"WAIT!" Emma gasped. She dug her bare heels into the carpet and pulled against him.

Severus sighed, turned towards her and rolled his eyes, "I am not going to take your damn virtue girl. I am trying to see you back to your room safely. Now, let's go before I have to kill the next dunderhead that lays a hand on you." He groused.

Emma shook her head, and her golden curls bounced playfully. Severus was mesmerized by the sinuous spirals for a moment before his brow furrowed and he met her frightened gaze.

"Poppet," She whispered and her bottom lip trembled, "I need to find Popped she said imploringly as she grabbed onto his forearm and tugged.

Severus' face clearly showed his confusion, "Poppet?"

Emma nodded, sending those curls into a tumult again, "My little sister. She's five. She must have gotten curious. I found her teddy," she turned to point to the door and let go of him and pulled her arm free of his grasp. She scurried over to the door, which was nearly obscured by the surrounding paneling, and pulled a small, furry bear from around the corner. Her robe had pooled around her, and she looked for all the world like some half cherubic creature that had fallen from heaven, the way the light dallied on her curls. Severus shook his head and frowned. Where had that come from?

Emma looked up at him and held out the bear, "Please Mr. Snape. Please help me find her before someone else does." She begged as the tears pooled in her eyes.

It was like a scene from some maudlin picture show. Her rosebud lips trembled and she blinked her eyes causing crystalline tears to fall down her rosy cheeks. The only thing missing was her creamy, heaving bosom. Though she had it in spades, thankfully they were appropriately covered, as he would expect of a pureblood witch.

"Fucking hell," He muttered. "Yaxley," He spat. His lips curled in a distasteful sneer showing his crooked teeth.

Emma's eyes grew large as she looked up at the clearly furious man.

"Come!" He stalked forward and grabbed her arm again, pulling her after him. He flicked his wand and cast a wordless tracking spell. "Fuck," He hissed and ran down a nearby hallway, pulling Emma after him. There were numerous rooms, and they passed through the darkness quickly, quietly.

Emma followed without a sound and struggled to keep up with his long strides. She knew that Poppet's life depended on it. They heard the gut wrenching screams before they got to the room. It was a small space, once used for servant's quarters when they had employed humans on occasion. Far from the other rooms, it was unlikely that anyone would have come upon it, and she was sure that they would have found Poppet dead or nearly so the next morning.

She stood in awe as the dark wizard before her ripped the door from its hinges with a magical blast and swiftly sent a near naked Yaxley flying across the room. The older man hit the wall with a grunt, and was knocked unconscious when his head flew back and hit the wall.

Emma drew forward, but Severus held her back. "Wait," he warned her and cast several diagnostic charms on the little girl.

"She had not been violated," He said softly, but they could both see the red welts crossed the little girl's body. She was naked and shivering on the bed. Still screaming, she had begun to kick out her feet in an effort to move towards the top of the bed. Yaxley still held the belt he had used to beat her.

Emma approached her sister carefully and drew off her robe, gently covering the girl with it. Severus watched as the young woman gathered the screaming child in her arms and rocked her gently. She was crying again, but she began to sing a simple little round as she swayed, "I love you Poppet." She repeated the phrase endlessly in a sweet, singsong tone until the child hushed.

Though the moment was spoiled, the picture they presented was lovely and touching. He had never been held or loved in such a fashion by sibling or parent. It also ripped the mask from the faceless and nameless that the Order tended to discount. These were the people he thought of when Dumbledore so carelessly shrugged away the negligible losses of winning this war. They were sparing no expense to guard Granger and the Weasleys, but what about young women like Emma, and what about the helpless children like the babe she held? They had made no decision to follow the monster.

Severus eyed Yaxley and cast a petrificus for good measure. The man's body stiffened but he seemed to remain unconscious.

"Come," He said softly and held out his hand to the young woman.

She looked up at him with red, swollen eyes. Her nose was pinked and running. He pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her, turning away as she blew her nose. The child was heavy in her arms, and he took her burden gently. The dark haired little girl was asleep by the time they had returned to the room. He laid her gently in Emma's bed and turned to meet the young woman's sad gaze.

There are a few potions that she will need." He said simply. "I'll return with them shortly." He shuffled awkwardly on his feet as he looked down at her. She seemed so small and forlorn, and even her riotous curls seemed to droop in despair. He reached out, peaked by curiosity, and pulled at one of the ringlets that had gone askew. Frowning at his own audacity, he drew back swiftly and walked backwards out of the room.

"I'm warding you in. Don't try to leave." He ordered and turned with a flurry of black robes. The door slammed shut behind him.

All of the air had left her lungs when his long, deft fingers had tugged at her hair. Emma did not know what to think. So many emotions swirled through her, sadness at Poppet's condition, relief that she was untouched, gratitude that Mr. Snape had been there to save them, and . . . something else entirely bloomed within her. Her eyes had followed his tall, graceful movements from the room. The dim light had formed a stark contrast and his sharp features had been enhanced. He had never been a particularly handsome man, but she had always thought him quite striking.

She turned to observe her sister and patted her sleeve and groaned when she realized that her wand was gone, lost. She sighed and knelt by the bed as she stroked Poppet's curls and reflected on Mr. Snape.

In her experience, he had always been cordial and almost gallant, and while her brother's other associates had always been polite, there had always been an element of distaste brought about by their gaze. They seemed to believe that they were owed something because of their status as Death Eater. She had no real understanding as to why there was a war. In her own experience, Muggles seemed a world apart, and all of the muggle borns at Beauxbatons had been cultured and well behaved. If breeding was a problem, then outlaw marriages between muggle borns and pure bloods. Though, that seemed rather silly to her. Blood did not seem to denote character. She had never been accosted by supposedly uncouth muggle born in her life; yet, she had been repeatedly propositioned by Mr. Dolohov. Her father had finally told the man that his suit was unwelcome. The crude wizard had not taken the rejection well, but it was not something he would take to the Dark Lord, who believed such matters below his notice.

'He is not, after all, a matchmaker. He's the bloody Dark Lord,' her brother had once remarked.

A knock on her door drew her from her reverie. She stood up when Mr. Snape strode back into the room. He seemed like some great shadow; only, his pale face shined like a beacon amidst the flurry of his dark hair. He knelt beside Poppet and looked up at Emma.

"Go and fetch a cloth and a basin of warm soapy water," His voice was deep and his words crisply enunciated.

Emma brought the items back quickly and helped him to unwrap her sleeping sister. He cast a cleansing charm on the girl but bid her wash the child as he ran another diagnostic charm. Emma worked quickly washing Poppet's exposed front carefully as Mr. Snape began murmuring healing spells. She recognized all of the spells and blushed at her own ineptness. She should have been the one doing this, but she had foolishly lost her wand.

"Thank you," She whispered.

Severus nodded and focused on the babe before him, trying to ignore the young woman, who stood so near. He didn't want to think of her or why he had returned instead of merely alerting her family of the girls' distress.

When he had healed the child's fractured bones. He rolled her over carefully to inspect her back. Emma washed the rest of Poppet's bruised skin.

Severus sighed and pulled out a jar of unguent. "You may want to remove your robe, it's going to seep into the fabric and ruin it." He said emotionlessly.

Emma did not really care, but she pulled the fabric from underneath Poppet merely because he had suggested she do so. He handed the small pot of greasy cream to her and allowed her to apply it gently. He flicked his wand and turned the child over. He watched her delicate fingers spread the medicine over the child's body carefully yet efficiently. He used a cleansing charm to rid her fingers of the residue.

"Help me give her this," He pulled out a potion.

"May I?" She asked.

Severus handed her the vial and watched her sniff it carefully. She nodded and handed it back to him. The dark wizard quirked a curious brow and turned to the child. Emma had crawled on the bed beside her sister and threaded her arm beneath the child's head to lift her up while Severus began pouring the potion in her mouth. Emma rubbed Poppet's throat to encourage swallowing. They gave her several options for healing.

He sat on his haunches watching the fair young woman looked down at her sister worriedly "I hope she doesn't remember any of it." She said worriedly.

"You would be better to hope that she does and to hope that it has taught her a very important lesson," He said sharply. Her wounded eyes met his sadly.

Severus frowned at her and narrowed his gaze. Was it so bad that she was such an innocent? He sighed, "This will not be the last of such gatherings. You will both need to be careful, and I would encourage you to stay elsewhere the next time. . ." His voice trailed off.

He stood abruptly, and he was more than a little disconcerted when she drew away from her sister and stood to see him off. She had pulled out his handkerchief and was worrying it in her pale, slim fingers.

"Thank you for your help tonight." She said softly as he rounded the bed. She stepped forward to block his exit, and Severus looked down at her from his imposing height.

He drew in a breath when she stepped close, rose up on her toes, and kissed . . . his chin. He nearly chuckled. He was not about to bend over and allow her to kiss him, regardless of how innocent the intention. And, her diminutive height prevented her from reaching anything other than the bony, jutting protrusion.

"Good night, Miss. Rookwood." He said in his most intriguing voice. His lack of physical beauty had taught him to use everything else at his disposal to make an impression. Reaching forward tentatively, he took her small hand in his, and meeting her eyes intently, he placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

In her modest, frilly, nightgown, and bare feet she curtsied, bending low in a graceful almost balletic move, but there was nothing comical about this gesture. For a man born in squalor, who was told that he was unwanted, unloved, and worthless, a man who had been used by others, his friendship tossed aside as if insignificant, a man whose colleagues readily believed him to be a murdered, whose comrades thought him a traitor, her deep curtsy was something that a man like him should never have received. It was a gift. This was the sort of gesture that a pureblood woman gave to a man she trusted, perhaps one she was engaged to, or a close family member. It was loaded with meaning.

It was something he had only seen once, a gesture of obeisance on the part of Narcissa Malfoy. It had been an accident that he had seen it, but he remembered Lucius' response well. The man had stood proudly and looked down on his humbled wife. He had paused long enough to savor the moment and then drew his hand up gently, signaling to her that he accepted her deference. He had brought her hand up and cradled it in both of his, as if she were something precious, and despite all of Lucius faults, his wife was dear to him.

Severus mimicked the gesture and took Emma's hand in both of his. She rose but kept her head bowed until he lifted her chin with his finger.

Someone cleared their throat. Severus looked up to see a rather tall, narrow faced wizard with long flowing silver hair, a beard to equal that of Albus Dumbledore, and a nose to rival his own. It was Rookwood Senior.

Severus inclined his head to the man.

"Snape," The older man tilted his head.

"Rookwood," Severus shifted uncomfortably, aware that he was in this man's daughter's room and it was early morning.

"Would you care to tell me what you are doing?" The hoary haired man asked.

"A fair question," Severus replied, "But I am afraid now is not the time for an inquisition. I have class to teach in a few hours." He replied sharply, giving the man a deadly glare.

"He, he saved Poppet, Daddy, and he saved me." Emma said earnestly. She felt the tension growing between the two men, and she sought to dispel it as quickly as possible.

Severus sighed. This was exactly what he had hoped to avoid. He did not want this man's gratitude or forced loyalty. He did not want to be beholden or seen as some sort of savior.

"Is this true, Snape?" The elderly man glared at his daughter and rolled his wand in his hand and took stock of the powerful wizard before him.

Severus sighed, "Is it true that your daughters were out of bed and roaming the manor when they should have been abed? That you failed to ward them into their rooms or safely ward the family quarters? Is it true that Yaxley beat and nearly violated your youngest? That, had I arrived later, Dolohov may have taken your precious Emma, too? Yes." He hissed and glared at the careless wizard.

Rookwood had grace enough to blush and step back from the doorway to allow him to pass. With a quick nod to the wide eyed Emma, Severus left swiftly and was never so relieved as he was when he lay down his head in his own bed and closed his eyes. But sleep evaded him, and his mind was filled with the image of those rollicking golden curls and worshipful blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Again the HP universe and characters belong to JKR. I own none of it and make no profit from these efforts.

I have taken liberty with the Rookwoods, as I'm sure some of you realize. This is obviously AU. Augustus is the only one I could find information on. There is no mention of his family, so this as have the "traditions and manners" has all been made up in my head. I hope you don't find it off-putting. Again this mad plot bunny won't let me work on my other story, so I decided to just let it out to play. I hope you like it. Please leave your feedback – it's more precious than gold to ME! Take care and happy reading!

Dark Soul Flies

Chapter 2

Severus sat gingerly in his wingback chair in Spinner's End. The attack had gone awry. Most of the Order members had escaped, and they had failed to capture the Trio, thankfully. However, his master had been most upset. They had been tortured, Lucius especially, and only he had avoided his master's wrath because his presence had been required elsewhere. If it wasn't one potion it was another. The creature was consumed with preserving his life and maintaining his farce of a body. He had been livid when he discovered that he was infertile, but what could he expect? He was not even human anymore, and it was a miracle that his genitalia functioned at all.

Severus sneered at the repugnant thought of what the once handsome and powerful wizard, Tom Riddle had become. Well, Bellatrix had not yet lost interest, he snorted with derision.

A tap on the window set him on edge, and he turned to open it carefully to allow the majestic animal in. It was an eagle owl, and it bore the crest of the Rookwood family on the cuff along its leg. Though fierce looking, the pied faced owl looked at him with its large, intelligent eyes. Its feathers were streaked and spotted in shades of tawny, brown and black. Once it noticed him examining its feathers, it hooted and stretched its wings, preening.

Such beasts were costly. Lucius had bought one from a breeder, and the bird had cost more than a year's salary at Hogwarts. Conspicuous consumption, Severus had called it, but Lucius had just chuckled and patted him on the back gamely.

The owl held out its claw gingerly to allow him to take the missive. This creature was unlike the crass, flighty birds that delivered the Prophet; this bird would be ashamed to act in such an uncouth manner. It lowered its head gently as he stretched his hand forward, and shuttered its eyes in ecstasy as he began rubbing its neck and petting it gently. In no hurry, the animal closed its eyes and clacked its beak sleepily, waiting for him to read the missive and craft a reply.

He slipped on his reading glasses and opened the letter carefully. The scent that hit his nose was heavenly. His sense of smell was acute, fortuitous for a man who chose a career in potion making and a man who worked as a double agent. He had been almost poisoned too many times to count.

This fragrance held a decidedly warm, feminine note, ambergris, more costly than gold per ounce. It was warm and erotic with notes of comfort and . . . it was addictive. He held the envelope slightly open under his nose and inhaled again. It was like inhaling that place on a woman's neck behind her ear, beneath her hair, and above her collarbone. It was slightly sweet, a little musky, and with soft hints of soap, vanilla, and amber. He sat there for an indeterminate amount of time just enjoying the fragrance before pulling the thick, heavy parchment from the envelope carefully.

It was similar to the quality that Narcissa used, and the ink, he smirked, was of a deep purple likely harvested from purpurea, a shellfish, also very costly. Though part of him identified the sheer frivolousness of such expenditures, the epicurean in him delighted in the beauty of the piece of art before him. It was lovely, and he could see her in his mind, sitting at her bureau plat on an ornately covered chair in some pastel velvet. He smirked. She had her hair pulled up, no doubt, but some of those wanton curls had likely escaped. Her posture would be perfect, and she would use a spare piece of parchment for blotting. Her script was lovely, flawless and delicate.

How many times had she begun? How many wrinkled, balled up sheets has she tossed to the floor before getting it just so? He wondered.

_Dear Mr. Snape,_

_Father told me not to bother you, but I wanted to thank you for saving us. Without your intervention, I shudder to think what might have happened to Poppet and I. I am forever in your debt._

Severus drew back, shocked, and reread the lines. His cheeks had heated as he read the address, dear. Her father would be unhappy with such familiarity. She knew him to be a professor, and it would have been more appropriate for her to use such a title sans address. That she had written inspite of her father's insistence against it was titillating. If he were to follow convention, as he surely would and she no doubt expected, he must notify her father that she had. He would not, however, divulge the contents of the letter nor return it, which would send a very pointed statement to the wizard. He smirked. It was an act of defiance and . . . power. She would be there when he refused to hand it over. He sighed and continued to read.

_Poppet is fully healed, thanks to your potions and salve, but she has the most terrible nightmares. I have to go to her every night to calm her down and get her back to sleep. I have taken to allowing her to sleep with me. I wonder if I might impose upon you as to what we should do? Father refuses to listen to me, despite my training, and instead, he follows the suggestion of his old healer, who says we should let her adjust on her own._

_I told him that, in moderation, Dreamless Sleep would help in the short term. Perhaps you could speak with him? I know that you are busy, but any help you could provide would be greatly appreciated._

She was asking him to intervene on a personal, family matter, which indicated trust and a desire to become more familiar with him. Here there was a firm indentation on the page. She had clearly paused and thought carefully before writing the next line.

_I have thought of nothing save the touch of your hands on mine since we last met. They have burnt a memory on my fingers, my palm. I hope you will accept the enclosed gift as a token of my regard. If I have overstepped myself, please feel free to return it, and I will trouble you no more._

_Kindest Regards,_

_Miss. Emma Rookwood_

It was a blend of formality and familiarity, and he had never received a letter of its ilk before. What surprised him was his lack of guilt. His throat constricted and his chest tightened with . . . excitement, titillation that such a young, pretty girl was sending him this secretive confessional. If her father knew, he would thrash her and lock her in her room. Belatedly, he thought of Lily, but it was with disdain and not longing. She would never have written him to ask for help, nor had she ever viewed his touch as anything other than troublesome or distasteful.

Yet, this pure blood young woman, good enough for the likes of Lucius himself, was daydreaming about him. Though he had been scorned and taunted as a child, Severus Snape had always been a proud young man, and he had grown into a confident, self possessed wizard. He conquered everything he set about to do. He was powerful, the most talented legilimens and occlumens this century save for the late Albus Dumbledore. He was a highly skilled potions master with a wealth of published research and the title to hundreds of patents. It suited him to hide his net worth, but when this war was over, he would not.

He had never anticipated that he would survive, and he knew that Albus had not either. This stuck in his craw more than anything else had. To them, he was expendable. He clenched his free hand and looked down at her letter with fire in his eyes.

Curiosity overcame his anger, and he peeked into the envelope and spied something shiny that seemed to catch the light. He dipped his long, pale fingers into the smooth parchment and pulled out a golden, springy curl held together with a pretty, satin ribbon. He played with the lovely, long spiral, twirling it round his finger thoughtfully and remembering the young woman who had so rashly kissed his chin only a few nights ago.

"Foolish girl," He smirked. It was unlikely to lead anywhere, but the diversion would be much needed. To know that there was a tender heart out there thinking of him while he suffered this coming hell would do more to see him through than all of the empty hopes he had placed on Lily. Oh, he would always love the wretched girl, but Emma was real, vibrant and lovely. She was a tangible element of what he was fighting to protect. Young women like her were just as much victims of this war as were those like Miss. Granger. Though strikingly dissimilar, the two were opposite ends of the same coin.

He reached down beside him and brought up a thick piece of wood that he had fashioned so that he could write letters from the comfort of his chair. Pulling out a piece of fine parchment, he began crafting his response. When he had encountered her, he had thought the whole ordeal a hassle. He had not desired the look of adoration she had given him or her indebtedness. However, he had dreamt of nothing but her, felt the weight of her small hand and the brush of her soft lips on his skin and replayed her curtsy in his mind repeatedly.

_My Dear Miss. Rookwood,_

_I am glad that you feel that you can trust me, and I hope that you will continue to do so. I am only thankful that I could be there to be of assistance to both you and your sister. You may trust that I will see the appropriate parties punished for their atrocious behavior._

Severus smirked, he had indeed seen to both Dolohov and Yaxley. They had been severely reprimanded for trespassing against such an esteemed pure blood family. What rankled was the Dark Lord's insistence that they had plenty of muggle animals on which to slake their lust. It infuriated him the way they so casually disregarded the lives of others. He took a deep breath before continuing.

_I will, of course, speak with your father. I would also be interested in hearing more about your training. You are correct; it will not harm the child to take Dreamless Sleep in small amounts. It precipitates a deeper sleep and will prevent her from dreaming. Children have a great capacity to recuperate; however, the event is so recent that it will take some time for her to put it behind her. Please do not allow the healer to administer any potions. I will provide you with what is needed, and in a higher quality than you will find in any mere apothecary._

Severus sneered. He knew what they attempted to pass off at apothecaries, and most healers were too dense to realize that they were being had.

_Charming girl, you capture me with your words. But I wonder, do you know to whom you speak? I am no callow youth for you to trifle with, my dear. Thank you for the lovely gift. You may be assured of my own regard. I would be pleased to accept any further letters you should choose to send, sweet Emma_

He paused wondering how to end it, and because he could think of nothing clever and did not want to pour any more sentiment into the missive, he left it without a closing and merely signed his name:

_Mr. Severus Snape_

They both knew that he was more than Mr. Severus Snape, but somehow it looked charming. He sneered at his own soppy behavior. However, he could not help but hear those syllables in her soft voice. Her father would read it and know to whom his daughter had written. He was considered by his fellow Death Eaters to be a powerful man, not someone to taunt or tease.

He would send the letter back by this owl, and her father would likely intercept it. He spelled it to open to no other but her hand. He placed a safeguard that would let him know when her father read it. He had no doubt the man would, and subsequently, he would know that Severus knew he had read the private correspondence.

He smirked and added a postscript to the letter:

_Please give your father my regards._

He folded up the missive and licked the envelope. It was something he never did, but there was something intimate in the act. It was the sort of thing he had watched Lucius do, lick the envelopes before using wax to seal them. He only did it when sending Narcissa messages, usually when she went away to France. Though he dallied with other women, which Severus found repugnant, it was clear that his wife was never far from his thoughts. There was something interesting about mimicking this behavior, Severus mused to himself as he melted the dark green wax he used. Long ago he had recovered the Prince signet ring, and he had used it for some time when sending important correspondences.

He woke the owl with a gentle pet and fed it some roast beef, which it ate delicately before thrusting out his leg for him to attach his reply.

He promptly went upstairs to shower; he had a feeling that he would be receiving a dinner invitation within the hour. He had charmed the window to open for the owl, and he smirked when he entered the den in his formal robes and spotted the animal preening its feathers while perched on the back of his chair.

The parchment was quality, but it was clear that the script on the envelope was not her hand, nor was the smell as he opened the letter with a snick of his letter opener. Her father's crest had been emblazoned on the wax.

Unsurprisingly, the missive was short and contained an invitation to dine with the family this evening. There was no need to reply; a place would be set for him, which meant he was expected to attend. If he did not, word would travel that he had exchanged private letters with an unattached young woman without speaking to her father. It would not reflect well on him. Though none of them could touch him, he did not want to stoke the ire of any pure blood families. The Dark Lord may look away now, but what would happen should he disappoint his notoriously fickle master? Not to mention, he would never hear the end of it from Lucius or Narcissa. The woman may not want the girl in her home, but she thought well of her nonetheless.

Severus looked straightened his cravat and it occurred to him to ask just what he thought he was doing? Was this merely a diversion? Was he toying with the girl's affections? What could he offer her? He had only brought those around him misery. He sighed and his hands trembled on his silken cravat. He didn't deserve her. He was a murderer. No matter how you looked at it, he was tainted. It would be better for her to turn her attentions elsewhere, but the image of her sweet, round face popped into his mind, and he couldn't turn from his course, no matter where it led. He cursed himself not for the first time for being a fool.

Steeling himself, he apparated to Rookwood manor and waited for the house elf to escort him inside.

"I'se is Webby," The little elf bobbed as she led him along the path. He was brought into the the family drawing room, a clear statement of his welcome. He inclined his head to Rookwood Senior, who stood and extended his hand. They shook firmly before Rookwood the younger stepped forward to take his hand as well. Severus looked at the young man's hand skeptically before taking it hesitantly and releasing it quickly. Emma was conspicuously absent.

"Please have a seat," The elder wizards gestured to the leather chair across from his, "Might I offer you a drink?"

Severus nodded his assent, and Webby brought him a glass of the find brandy not unlike the one held by the man seated across from him. He sniffed the liquid and detected nothing but the smell of a very expensive liquor. The elderly man awaited him, politely.

"I must confess, Rookwood," He began.

"Please, call me Alexander," The man bid him in a calm, deep voice.

Severus shifted, "Alexander, it would please me if you were to return the favor and call me Severus," The dark haired wizard replied speculatively. "I am glad that you have so graciously invited me into your home. You see, your daughter has recently sent me a note of thanks. I thought it appropriate to seek an audience." He said with a raise of his brow.

It was clear that the man had not been caught off guard and was well aware of his daughter's disobedience. His words were soft but slightly chiding, "That displeases me greatly. Would you mind if I asked her to join us, Severus?" He asked.

"Of course not, but I do hope it is not me to which you object," He replied sharply.

"Oh, never, Severus, but I did tell the girl that it would be most inappropriate for her to send such a letter when we had not yet spoken of the matter." The older wizard attempted to sooth him. "Please fetch her, Webby." He bid the little elf.

They waited momentarily, and Severus heard the rustle of her skirts as she approached. Webby opened the door, and she thanked the elf sweetly before entering the room. Her dinner costume was typical in taste. It was modest, but fitted. She looked surprised to see him; her eyes grew large and her cheeks pinked. No doubt her father had warned her that they would have a guest and she was to appear at her best, but she had been taken aback by his presence.

"Come, child," Her father bid her. They had all risen as she entered, and she was quite dwarfed by the tall men in the room. She approached her father, and the deep gold of her gown seemed incandescent as the light hit it just so. She was prettier than he remembered, but then, he could see her figure, which had been hidden by her shapeless nightgown. She was curvy and soft and quite petite. Her round, childlike face still bore a faint mark where Dolohove had struck her, a reminder of her foolishness and his good deed. Her hair was pulled up and the ringlets pinned neatly on top of her head.

Alexander took his daughter's hand and turned the girl to face Severus. The men sat while she stood, and it was clear to her that she was being held accountable. She bowed her head and Severus noted that her cheeks had pinked.

It was clear that it pained the man do chide his daughter, but the tall man withdrew his thin hand from his daughter and spoke sternly to her, "Is it true that you corresponded with Severus without my knowing after I specifically forbid you from doing so?" His voice seemed to sting her as she blinked rapidly.

"Yes father," She said softly.

"Are you such a girl as to disobey her father and behave inappropriately with men? You lack discretion, and have shamed yourself and this family through your actions. Severus so gallantly saved you, and you show your thanks by behaving wantonly rather than allowing me to invite him into our home and allow him to become familiar with your father before speaking to you. It is disgraceful. What man would want a woman such as this, whose own father does not trust her?" His eyes were turned toward Severus, and the dark haired wizard could tell that it hurt the man deeply to speak to her in this manner. But this was the formula and had been for too many years to count.

Emma broke into tears. She knelt gracefully at her father's feet and took his hand in hers. Severus was fascinated by the display, lovely in its authenticity. He had borne witness to the exchanges between Draco and his father, but these had been quite different. Daughters were coddled while sons were forced roughly into a mold.

The stern wizard waited, allowing Severus to intercede as was expected.

"Please, Alexander, the girl meant no harm." His deep voice filled the still room, punctuated by the crack of the wood on the fire. "She merely wished to express her gratitude and was a little overzealous in her desire to thank me despite your counsel. I believe it more the product of naivety than willful disobedience." He looked toward the young woman, who had turned toward him as he spoke.

Her face was streaked with tears. He pulled out his handkerchief, stood and stepped toward her. Kneeling, he wiped the tears from her face.

Alexander looked to his daughter, "Emma?" He asked.

The girl nodded, "I'm sorry, Father. I'm sorry Mr. Snape." Her lower lip trembled as her glassy blue eyes met his.

"Severus," He rumbled, "Please, call me Severus." He took her hand and ushered her to the settee where he joined her.


	3. Chapter 3

Again the HP universe and characters belong to JKR. I own none of it and make no profit from these efforts.

Well, this story seems to have generated very little interest. There is a great deal of fluff, so I can understand why. However, if there is something that bothers you about it, I hope you'll share your point of view. Thank you to those who are reading. I look forward to your reviews. Thanks for following along! Never fear - I'll finish it whether I have one reader or one hundred! Take care!

Dark Soul Flies

Chapter 3

It was rather awkward sitting near Emma with her father and brother staring at them. The elder Rookwood seemed rather pleased with himself, and the younger looked ready to leap out of his skin. Severus felt rather like a prize turkey on display.

Emma seemed oblivious to their attention as she smiled shyly up at him. It was difficult to really care about their motives with her so near, and this might have continued for most of the night had Lucius not appeared.

The man looked a little worse for the wear. Though their takeover at the ministry had been successful, Lucius was still on the Dark Lord's list. It was a very short, very unpleasant list to be sure. Whatever his position, it was uncommon to see the self possessed wizard associating with the Rookwoods, who, though social equals, were hardly beneficial allies in the Death Eater circuit. It begged the question, why was his friend here?

"Mr. Malfoy," Webby announced. Rookwood senior stood and welcomed the man and seated him in Severus' vacant chair.

"Well, you do work quickly," Lucius said to the older wizard.

Rookwood smiled slyly, a fraction of a movement that had he not been looking Severus might have missed; the dark haired wizard arched an imperious brow.

"Lucius," He narrowed his eyes at his blond friend. "To what do we owe your presence?" He asked.

The aristocratic man leaned back in his chair comfortably, crossed his legs, and made a show of examining his pristine nails, "As the previous proprietor of Emma's contract, it is my duty to oversee any new bonds that are drawn up and approve of the match." Lucius gave Severus a grand smile, "I must say. You couldn't have chosen better, Rookwood. Severus is in a unique position to protect her."

Rookwood nodded, "I thought as much. I had not desired to rush her so, but Dolohov made it clear to my son that he would have her one way or another. I received a rather strongly worded bid for her hand. The wretched man assured me that he was willing to go through extreme measures to have her." Rookwood senior seemed quite agitated after this delivery.

Severus glared at them, "What is it you are proposing?" He said dryly. While his ire had been raised by their offensive posturing, he was more perturbed by the thought of Dolohov's threats. The man was a blaggard of the lowest denomination. Oh, he came from a good family, but he had been captured after the first wizarding war and had spent many years in Azkaban. The man was unstable. He was also fond of hitting women. Just the thought of Emma falling into that animal's clutches set his blood on fire.

Emma looked around the room and seemed quite confused at the way the conversation was proceeding,

"I've had my solicitor draw up the contract," Rookwood drew his wand and summoned a thick scroll.

"Well, Severus, are you game old man? She seems to have taken a liking to you, interestingly enough." Lucius chuckled.

Emma blushed and focused her gaze on her lap.

"Come, Snape," The younger Rookwood stood as the other gentlemen headed towards the ornate card table at the back of the room.

Severus stood abruptly and looked to Emma, who peeked up at him shyly. If he were being honest with himself, this situation was far more tantalizing than it was distasteful. He could see that, while she was anxious, Emma was excited about this turn of events as well. She had been raised to accept that her marriage would be arranged for her. It was about alliances, and love was something that was hoped for but not expected. She would be taken care of and protected, and this was foremost in the minds of her father and brother.

Severus approached the table apprehensively. These matters were typically settled over years of niggeling. Contracts were rarely ever signed on such short notice and without a solicitor from both parties present.

Rookwood handed him a quill and looked at him expectantly. Severus scowled at the man and grabbed the scroll off of the table swiftly. The older man drew back, and Lucius laughed, "You didn't think he would give in that easily did you?" The blonde chuckled.

Severus returned to his seat by Emma and perused the contract thoroughly. It took an hour for him to read and amend it to his liking.

"Very well," He conceded, "I will agree to a child, but you do realize that I may not make it through this war?" He taunted his soon to be father-in-law.

Emma gasped. Regardless of the tender feelings that he had developed quickly for her, he was not about to sugarcoat this. She did not live in a vacuum. Her father may have kept much from her, but she knew the sort of men with whom her brother had allied himself and thus the family. If she did not know that he had killed Dumbledore, and he suspected that she was blissfully unaware, she would learn of it soon enough. He would be ready for the wary looks and distrust from her quarter when they came he supposed.

Rookwood senior frowned thoughtfully, "It will legitimize her inheritance. Upon her marriage, she will receive the dower house, which is secret kept. You two will be the only to know of its location, and should she be in danger, you must send her there. As a part of this contract, you will agree to keep the location of the house secret." He said harshly.

Severus nodded, "But why the child?" He persisted.

The other wizard sighed, "If you should die, she would need to bear your child in order to keep the house, in order to keep her safe. If something should happen, I want her well away from all of this." He implored.

Severus nodded again. The settlement was very generous. His wife would be a rich woman, regardless of whether or not he survived, and what would he have? Well, in the end he would have her for comfort. He looked to the young woman beside him curiously, "What do you want, Emma?" He asked as he turned to her.

Lucius scoffed, but the elder Rookwood seemed to relax minutely.

Emma tilted her head artlessly and Severus was reminded of her youth, "Only to be happy, to have a family, and perhaps to work some?" She asked hesitantly.

Her father scoffed, "That's the last thing you should be doing. Girl, don't you appreciate your situation? We have gone over this repeatedly."

Ema furrowed her smooth brow, "But, Father, why do you think I spent six years studying?" She sulked.

"Emma, I indulged your whim because your contract had been terminated. I thought it would be good to get you out of the country until . . . well, and keep you occupied. Had another valid offer been placed, you would have been withdrawn from your classes." Her father replied testily.

The girl blushed shamefully; that her contract had been dissolved was no small slight. Given their position, there was no recourse for the Malfoy's withdrawal. So, she had borne the brunt of the minor offense. There were few enough pure blooded wizards and none with the status of the Malfoy; such contracts were typically orchestrated when the children were quite young. Rookwood's own social prominence and wealth at the time of Draco's birth had inspired Lucius to strike up a contract with for his then 7 year old daughter. For wizards, who bred even as centenarians, 7 years was quite a negligible.

"Her professors told me that she was a talented student and would make a wonderful healer, but it is hardly appropriate for a young woman of her standing to work in a public hospital." He scoffed.

Lucius nodded, and Severus wisely kept quiet as did Emma. He had no reservations about her working should she choose. The last thing he wanted was a bored housewife on his hands. Merlin knew that Narcissa had often been a pain in both Lucius and his sides. He knew just the woman to help; though, it might take an order rather than a request at this point.

"When will the ceremony take place?" Lucius asked as Severus signed the contract and handed it to him. The blond wizard signed quickly and turned the scroll over to the elder Rookwood.

The man signed the scroll and placed his seal upon it. The scroll duplicated and then the original vanished with a flash.

"I should like to give them time to court and to plan a ceremony as befits her station." The white haired wizard said thoughtfully. "Would your wife consent to help?" He asked Lucius.

"She would be delighted. After all, Severus is a close family friend." Lucius smiled at Severus, who sat uncomfortably next to Emma. He felt a little at a loss. It was one thing to rush through the matter, but to be confronted with the idea of courting a young woman when he had so much on his plate as it was, well, it seemed ludicrous. He was a murderer, and the only reason that he was walking free was due to the fact that the Dark Lord pulled the strings at the Ministry.

"Things are changing, Rookwood," Lucius warned, "Your position could be in jeopardy despite Severus' clout. Might I suggest being flexible to the changes at work? As an Unspeakable, you could offer us a great deal of insight." He said amiably.

It was clearly a veiled threat, and both senior and junior were put on guard. They knew what was at stake. They walked a very fine line, and if the war were to turn against the Dark Lord, they could very well face stringent penalties. It was quite possible that the elder Rookwood would lose his other son. The weight of the war was taking its toll, and the man at once reflected every one of his 75 years.

He nodded, and his white beard bobbed, "Will you be joining us for dinner?" He asked, aware that his daughter had been made privy to a great deal of information that he had previously hid from her. She was a clever girl, and there would be questions.

Dinner was a quiet affair, and though he engaged in heated conversation with Lucius and both Rookwoods, Severus was not oblivious to Emma's presence. Seated across from him, he felt her eyes on him throughout the meal. Yet, each time he turned his gaze toward her, she was poised, looking demurely elsewhere.

He had been anticipating bidding her good night, and when the moment came, they were left conspicuously alone. There was something thrilling about knowing that she was his, and he might do as he wished without anyone to gainsay him. Unlike Lucius, he could not pull out of this contract. He was as good as married, but that meant that she was as good as his bedmate. No man, even one as strong an occlumens as Severus, could resist such a thought, such a sweet temptation.

Though he fought his baser nature, he was, after all, only a man. He had been alone for a very long time, and unlike other men, he had not indulged at the Revels since he had been ordered to do so as a very young man. He was a Professor and well known. He would not jeopardize his position by frequenting brothels, nor would he stoop so low as to hire a woman of the evening. Short of taking matters into his own hands, which he avoided in an effort to maintain his shields and prove his strength of will, he had been alone and without the comfort of a woman's touch all of his life, save for a few brief, encounters in which there had been very little contact and no intimacy involved.

In short, they were dangling a tidbit in front of a starved man. He had as good as paid for it, and it was his. In the back of his mind, he chided himself for viewing her as a thing, but there was more to this than ownership. She was his, his to protect, and he had rarely been entrusted with anything so precious. Yet, here was a father, who clearly doted on this lovely girl, placing her life and wellbeing into his hands.

And she, she looked at him with such wonder, such wide-eyed faith. It was more than anyone had ever given, more conviction than even Dumbledore had placed in him. For, here, there were no conditions, no reservations. Her little hand fitted neatly into his larger one, and this golden little angle awaited his attention patiently.

She was a bold little thing, too, and he sat stunned momentarily as she leaned forward, pressing her small hand on his chest. Her inexperienced lips grazed his clumsily, and his senses came alive. His hands slipped around her shoulder, fingers caressing the warm, bare skin of her neck. He approached her with the calculated, calm of an older man.

His lips teased hers softly, and he was elated by her gentle sighs. Her right hand slid up to his shoulder, and he nearly groaned as she unwittingly placed her left hand on the upper part of his thigh for balance. He fought the urge to grab her hand move it over where it was truly desired.

His tongue slipped out to tease her lips open, and when her lips parted he entered tentatively. He was gratified when she mimicked his movements, darting her little tongue into his mouth. He captured it swiftly and sucked on the small pink muscle. He pulled away slightly and looked down into her heavy lidded eyes.

He felt a heady power knowing that he had brought this lovely woman to this state. He, who had been unwanted, unloved, abandoned, scorned, and all but forgotten, but she wanted him. She desired him, with her adoring gaze and grasping little hands. His lips crushed hers passionately, and she did not pull away from his eagerness. His hand settled on the curve of her hip and slid up the bodice of her silken gown. She glowed ethereally, a little seraph, as his mouth possessed hers. He wanted to touch her, but he would not do so here, in her father's drawing room.

He pulled away again and met those wanton blue eyes. He smirked, and his fingers reached up to thread through the curls that had escaped their pins.

Suddenly, he felt it, the stinging pain on his forearm. He was being called. Quickly, he extricated himself from her carefully, and pulled her hand to his lips for a quick kiss. He stood looking down at the disheveled young woman, who seemed a little hurt by his hasty departure.

"Emma," He said with a patience that was swiftly being staunched by pain, "I am being called." He gripped his arm tightly, "By the Dark Lord."

Her eyes grew round with fear and understanding. She nodded and rose quickly. This time he did bend to accept her kiss on his cheek. He turned quickly in a flurry of robes and left her there, worrying his handkerchief.

Severus left Rookwood manor abruptly and nearly ran into Lucius on his way down the dark drive. The man was waiting for him and gripped his shoulders, preventing them both from tumbling to the rocky walkway.

"Enjoy the sample, lover boy? I had about given up on you." Lucius taunted and then grimaced as another wave of pain shot through his arm.

They quickly passed the wards and apparated to their master, transfiguring masks and robes from items they carried on their persons.

"So glad you could join us, Severus, Lucius," The Dark Lord hissed. He directed his attention to the now assembled Death Eaters as the two men took their places, "We hold the Ministry within our grip, and the Prophet as well." The distracted man walked through their ranks as he spoke, "However, I. Want. Potter. He was spotted in London. Severus," The creature turned his eerie eyes toward his servant, "You will gain entrance to Grimmauld Place. Go!" He hissed at them and returned to his throne. The room seemed to vibrate with potential energy in the absence of their masters words, and then they burst into action.

Severus wilted visibly. This would not go well. He was a traitor, and his access to Black's ancestral home had undoubtedly been rescinded. Those foolish children were likely holed up there like sitting ducks. He sighed and turned quickly. He heard the flurry of robes behind him as various members followed him. "Meet me in the alleyway outside of the Leaky Cauldron." He ordered.

He worked for hours. They tried everything save for burning the building down. He had been able to render the building visible, which had shocked even him, but, to his relief, he was not able to enter. Lucius had attempted every spell he had in his own arsenal, but they had been unable to break through the wards and protective spells that were constructed by Albus Dumbledore.

"I am sorry to have failed you, my Lord," Severus offered later as he knelt at his master's feet.

"Severus,' The snake-faced man hissed. "Such a faithful servant, and yet, you defy me in this?"

He shook his head, sending his dark, lank hair flailing about his face, "No, my master. It was beyond my abilities. Dumbledore . . "

"Silence!" The Dark Lord screeched, "You will NOT speak his name!" The crazed man yelled. "CRUCIO!" The force of his wand was leveled on Severus, who fell to the ground and seized with a grunt. His eyes stared sightlessly above him as every neuron in his brain fired. His pain receptors were overloaded. The punishment continued for hours, and it was only the steely hold he kept on his mind, his impenetrable occlumency shields, that saved him from madness.

The Dark Lord was losing his grip, and they would all bear the brunt of his madness.

"I'm sorry, Severus, my faithful servant." The man hissed almost lovingly as he knelt to stroke Severus' face. "Lucius, take him away."

He had been beaten with in an inch of his life before, and Lucius had helped him to stumble bloodied and senseless to an apparation point. Sometimes, the man even apparated him to the gates of Hogwarts. However, now he had nowhere to go. Hogwarts was yet closed to him; all of the Order believed him a traitor. There was no one, save Lucius, to turn to.

He had a broken arm and he suspected a fractured jaw. There was nothing to do but return home and attempt to treat himself. He would not be a burden on Lucius. "Spinner's End," He muttered, spitting blood from his mouth.

Lucius sniffed and wiped his old friend's face with his handkerchief, as Severus had done for him many, many times. The dark haired wizard had sat by his bedside feeding him potions until he could breathe without pain and sleep restfully. They had relied on each other for so long, that Lucius was both offended and understanding at Severus' reply.

"Fool," The blond wizard hissed, "You wound me. Yet, do you realize the connection you have made this evening. I will take you to your soon to be father-in-law's home. Why not let your little wife-in-training nurse you back to health?" Lucius smirked and apparated them to Rookwood manor.

"No!" Severus hissed in pain as he spoke and stumbled as the landed awkwardly. His ribs were clearly cracked as well. He gripped his chest and spoke in a whisper, "I'll not let her see me like this." His dark eyes pled.

Lucius scoffed, "She trained as a healer. She has practiced already. Her father is a fool to think that she did not have clinical and practical trials. It is far better that she accepts what she is getting into now and prepare for the role she will fill. She may be naive, but the girl is clearly not an idiot. Let her care for you. It will endear you further to her, and it will show them your strength. I know of no other man, save myself, who could endure over an hour of the cruciatus at the hands of the Dark Lord." His friend rebutted and helped him to the manor gate, where they were met by Webby. The elf responded to Severus' need. Though he was not yet a member of the family, they were bonded through the contract, and the elf recognized him as one under its protection.

He was taken to a spare room, and within moments Alexander joined him. Lucius divulged what he could, and Emma barged in and listened intently. When she realized the extent of his injuries, she knelt beside his bed.

"I'll call for a healer," Alexander Rookwood turned to leave the room.

'No!" Both Emma and Severus replied.

"I think it best if you let the girl tend him," Lucius urged.

"That would be most inappropriate," Alexander glared at him sternly.

"How so? She is to be his wife, better she learn now what is expected of her. Who did you think he was? Severus is a member of the Dark Lord's inner circle. If you want him to continue protecting your family, your daughter, you had better take care of him. This is what it will require; would you willingly sacrifice yourself thusly? Could you?" He accused. "Let the girl tend him." The irate blond wizard drew close, nose to nose with the elderly man, who stepped back quickly and bowed his head. "Of course, Lord Malfoy." He acquiesced.

Malfoy nodded. "I'll return with his potions momentarily." The blond exited abruptly, leaving Alexander to stare at his daughter hopefully.

"Severus," She whispered as she sat gingerly beside him. She had never addressed him so informally, and his name tasted foreign on her lips. She had relieved his kiss endlessly from the moment he left, and she had hoped he would return soon. But, this was not what she had wanted. Tears spilled unbidden from her eyes as she looked down at her fiancé's pale, stricken face.

Through sheer force of will he opened his eyes to look up at her.

"May I use your wand?" She queried. Her own had been found broken in the entryway, and her father, in a fit of pique, had refused to replace it.

Severus grunted his ascent and hissed when she moved his arm to draw the long, slender wand from his sleeve.

Emma looked at her father beseechingly. He left reluctantly but bid Webby to watch over her and attend her every need.

Severus' wand warmed readily in her hand and responded to her willingly. She deftly held what she could, using a wand, but there were deep tissue injuries that would require potions to repair. She tried to make him more comfortable while he waited. He steadfastly refused to allow her to undress him. So she gently pulled the sheet and heavy duvet over him before removing his clothes magically. She sent Webby to launder them while she transfigured a vase into a basin, filled it with warm water, and gently wiped the blood from his face.

He felt the gentle pressure of her fingers as she slid the warm, wet cloth over his bruised face. Each time he winced, she apologized and punctuated the sentiment with a kiss to the tender area.

She knew from training that touch was required to still the muscle tremors, which were a resulting after effect of the cruciatus. She turned down the covers and began washing his chest gently. It was on the tip of his tongue to reprimand her for her bold behavior, but he snapped his mouth shut as she drug the warm cloth over his pale chest. The rag was soon set aside, and Severus watched in fascination as her little hand explored his bare flesh. He remained silent, so as to not frighten her.

Emma, despite her training, had never seen a man's bare flesh. Oh, she had seen pictures in books, but she had never seen a naked man. And she certainly had never touched one so intimately. She was fascinated with the play of muscle under his skin as they flexed uncontrollably due to the recent curse he had endured. Her fingers brushed curiously over the dark hair on his chest. She was so absorbed in her own exploration, that she nearly forgot that the man in question was observing her. Her cheeks warmed, but she did not stop her as she pulled the covers lower and ran her hands gently down the ropy muscles of his biceps and forearms. Her curious fingers explored the tender flesh of his ribs and followed the curious, dark trail of hair down his belly button. His skin was pale with an olive cast and bore many scars across its surface. The hair was silky and curled slightly.

She was startled when his hand shot out to grab her wrist firmly as her fingers stroked his abdomen and their tips slid briefly under the covers. She squeaked with surprise and her startled gaze was drawn to Severus' heated stare. "I believe such an expedition would be better left for much, much later, my dear. I am in no state to gratify your current curiosity; though, I can assure you that I am most definitely interested in doing so. Only, you will need to give me some time to recuperate so that I am in . . . top condition to perform." He said teasingly in his deep baritone.

Emma's face grew red with embarrassment and her fingers trembled, and Severus drew her arm up above his head, causing her to lean forward and drape lightly over him. She rested her weight on the hand she had placed beside his other shoulder.

His arousal inflamed, he sought some consolation for his frustrated situation. So he enjoyed the teasing weight of her breast through the thin fabric of her gown and robe. He longed to rip the demure pieces from her and take her right here, but he would wait to have her, when she was well and truly his. Instead, he admired her unruly tresses as they fell like a wild curtain about his face, and he teased her lips gently, biding her open to him again. She complied willingly and with more skill this time. She was bolder as she met his advances and their tongues danced together. Severus felt the stiff points of her nipples rub against his chest, and he could not resist the urge to slide his free hand up to cup the full globe. The woman above him gasped. If one must be in pain, he reflected, this was a definite consolation. The light pressure of her body and the heat of her seemed to ease some of the spasms in his muscles, but her wanton moan did little to quench his rising ardor.

His thumb teased the stiff nub, and he groaned as she shifted her balance to the hand he held and allowed her left hand to begin exploring him. Her warm little fingers ghosted over his shoulder, teasing his skin. She arched her back, thrusting her breast more firmly against his palm. Her lips pulled from his and trailed sweet kisses across his cheek and down his neck. He turned his head to kiss her jaw and then capture her delicate earlobe in his teeth.

It was this moment that startled him, awakened him to what was possible as she came alive in his arms mewling and rubbing against him. There were many who received their just desserts, and there were those who swam upstream their entire lives. He had fought the current, and until recently he had decided that perhaps, after all of the wrong he had done, he disserved to die. He would never be forgiven his sins; he had seemed to be born lacking. His decisions had been wrong, his judgment in error, and he had been filled with bitterness, covetousness, and anger. It all seemed to slip away, the emptiness replaced with fulfillment, the longing replaced with desire, and the anger with tenderness. He would live for her. He would find a way, and even if the world never forgave him, he would find a place to live quietly with her and to be worthy of her. If there was one thing he was sure of, he knew that he was cleverer than other men. He would survive, but in order to do so, in order to see the world set to right, things must change. He needed to take a more active role in helping Potter in aiding the Order. Dumbledore and his madness be damned. The fool would have him sacrifice himself for this greater good. Rather, he would fight for it and live for it. If he were conquered in the end, it would not be because he had resigned himself to this fate, given up without a fight. No, his life would be a living testament to humanity, failure, disgrace, and redemption.

Emma gasped with the pleasure of his ministrations. She felt a want she had never experienced before well up inside of her. At Beauxbatons, they had been watched strictly. Fraternization was forbidden, and though they had classes together, the interaction between male and female students was monitored heavily. Her father had only allowed her to attend University because it was a private, all female school. The professors had been women as well. So, she had no other experience with which to relate their current activities.

She was inundated by sensory information, and she shook with a want that seemed both foreign and heady. Severus' fingers plucked and strummed her, and she started nervously when his hand trailed away from her breast and slid down her hip and over her bottom, where he squeezed and kneaded her plump flesh. It felt deliciously wicked, and she could not help her reaction as he put pressure on her bottom, her hips thrust forward and she pressed against his hip wantonly.

Severus hissed in pain, and Emma drew her lips away, startled, from his neck. The man in question opened his eyes and noticed a shadow standing at the door.

"I'm sorry," She said breathily.

Lucius stepped into the dimly lit room and his lips drew up in a knowing smile, "This was exactly what I had in mind." He said knowingly.

Emma drew away from Severus with a gasp, crossing her arms over her breasts and turning her red face away from the intruding wizard.

It was impossible to miss her embarrassment, but what gave Lucius pause was the light in his friend's eyes. It was something he had not seen in a very long time.


End file.
